A Chrismukkah After All These Years
by Mischievous.Eyes.9
Summary: Summer hasn't seen anyone in five years. What happens when she comes to Berkeley right before everyone's favorite mega holiday to do more then spread cheer? How will everyone deal with her return, or better yet, the secret she's hidden from them?
1. I Thought I Was Your Destiny

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years **_

**Chapter One: **

**I Thought I Was Your Destiny**

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**Basic Jargon:**

**Summary: **_New storyline after Summer leaves on the GEORGE bus, season four._ What happens when in a brief lapse of time you're forced to grow up? Summer Roberts is faced with this dilemma and she decides, on her own accord, that she wants to face it alone. Now, five years have passed, and Christmas, or should I say Chrismukkah, has come over the ex-residences of Newport Beach. Seth is still nursing a broken heart. Ryan and Taylor are moving on to bigger and brighter things both in their personal and career lives. Kirsten and Sandy are trying to figure out the perfect gift for Sophie. Julie is celebrating the anniversary of her first truly functioning on her own. And when Summer arrives with her "holiday surprise," Kaitlin is back to her scheming ways. Everything might just end up like it's supposed to.

**Disclaimer:** Apart from the occasional OC, I own nothing. This show is based off of _The O.C., _which had, it own writers, backing corporations, and all-around owner… oh and of course, creator. I simply, take words in my head and put them on Microsoft Word that is all.

**Author's Note:** Just to clarify, this is not my first fan fiction. It is however, my first O.C. fan fic, and on such grounds, I decided to make a new name. Seeing, as all my other stories (and there are a good amount of unfinished ones, mind you) all seem to focus on one show. Well anyway, I hope you enjoy.

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She pushed her toes farther into the sand, inhaling the California air. It was cooler than she remembered, damper. She exhaled softly and for a moment she couldn't remember why she left; exchanging a plush existence for a hard bus seat. 

At the time she felt like she had been exalted, she felt like a change of scenery and the robust passion she had found within would help her figure out who she was, but it didn't. If anything it took her view of the world, contorted it, and made things worse. She had loved GEORGE, she had loved what it stood for, but when it was all said and done, it made figuring out who she was twice as hard. And in the end it made her feel like a fool, and Summer Roberts was tired of feeling like a fool.

Even still this had been six years, a thousand cups of coffee, and three-hundred cocktail dress designs ago. Standing here, on this beach, where so much of the life she had known had taken place, she wished she could go up to one of those onlookers, two of whom she'd known from high school, and say, _"I graduated Brown last year. I overcame my ditzy persona and became something amazing. What is it you can say about your life?" _Or hell, at this moment, even, _"I got married last year and we're redecorating the summer cottage, any color ideas?" _would suffice.

Unfortunately, she couldn't do this, because she hadn't graduated Brown or gotten married. Her Brown career had consisted of almost a semester and ended because of rabbits. She wanted to laugh every time she thought about it, but she knew that after the laughter, there would be tears.

And marriage? She couldn't talk marriage, couldn't think marriage, not when there was no one to fill her deepening void. Not when she hadn't seen the only man she'd ever loved in five years. Not when she now carried around with her so much baggage, that most guys wouldn't give her the time of day and the ones that did never turned out to be her type.

She could remember the last time she had seen Seth. The last time she had touched him, smelled him. Some people say that memories become distorted and faded over time, but this memory, this memory played out as crisp and as clean as it had years prior; Summer thanked God for small favors.

_He shuffled his feet against the pavement; they were incased with old, tattered Chuck Taylor's. Seeing him like this, spending this summer with him, so far from their home had almost made her forget that he came from money. It didn't help that during his year in Rhode Island he had attempted to grow a beard and even after she had forced him to shave it off, the hair came back so quickly that stubble had taken up residence on his face. _

_She had clutched his hand tightly, pushed it into her side. This was the last day of their journey. They had spent the past three months walking the streets of Venice, staring off into space from the Eiffel tower, taking the European vacation most would only dream about. In the morning, he would fly back to his family, who now lived in Berkley, and she would spend another week in what seemed like the center of the universe: Rome, Italy. _

_He moved in closer as they reached the fountain, acting as a jacket. Summer was so appeased that she pretended that it was cold outside. She pretended that they weren't close to the equator. She pretended that an Italian summer was milder than a summer in California, even though she had learned in less than a week that this simply wasn't the case. _

_Seth pulled a Euro cent from his back pocket and gave it to her as they stood before it; Summer's eyes so captivated that they slid back and forward, making it seem like the Roman gods were dancing in front of her. _

_"Close your eyes, turn around, throw it in, and make a wish." He whispered the instructions like she was a five year old girl, not a twenty year old woman. His stubble nudged against the side of her face and she giggled slightly, before she began her task. _

_Seth followed in this action, taking in both a deep breath and his surroundings. "You want to know what I wished?" He questioned, as soon as they both opened their eyes. _

_"Come on, like you have to ask. Of course I want to know." She replied, raising an eyebrow. _

_"I don't know, you spent the last year with those crazy vegans, the experience alone might have changed your need to know every little thing." _

_She sighed silently, looked into his big eyes and that mop of hair, and for a second she almost wished it had. The last year, that was all she wanted, a form of clarity, a major change, but none of these things had came. "Nothing could change that Cohen." She said with a smile, before adding. "Though you might not want to tell me, I could jinx it." _

_"Well," He said, grabbing her arm like someone more debonair. "I am going to tell you anyway." He kissed her cheek, knowing that there was a good chance that she might shoot him down, knowing that this could be the last time the kiss felt the same way again. _

_He cleared his throat. "I wished that you would reconsider my proposal. I wished that you would be engaged to me, in name, no pressure, just a promise."_

_A smile crossed her face, but before if could fill every open crevice, she stopped. "I would love to." She said softly, not in a tone that meant one thing or another. _

_"I got my Grandmother's old ring…" he began, but before he could continue she interrupted, with the most caustic word of all, "but."_

_"But, I don't think I can make you that promise." His happiness fell straight down, as if crashing like the World Trade Center. "I left you last year Seth, and in that time, I hoped that I would find myself. I hoped, that I would come to you this new woman, this woman who would know who she is, but I don't. And I don't think we can go down this road, this bride and wedding road, without a strong leg to stand on. You know?"_

_"Yeah, I understand." He said solemnly, "I just… I thought I was your destiny."_

_"You are Cohen," She placed her hand over his heart, which was beating just as hard as hers. "But the crazy thing about destiny, is that it grabs you when you least expect it and while I definitely wasn't expecting this, it just means it wasn't the right time." _

_"Will there ever be a right time?" He asked, taking a seat on the fountain's edge. _

_"Of course," she said, her voice abnormally high. "I just don't know when that time will be." _

_"Then what are we doing?" He questioned, "I mean, with your logic Summer, no matter what, no matter where, we'll end up together. So what makes now so important?"_

_"You do. I love you Cohen." She mused; the answer took a while to fall from her lips. _

_"But not enough to get engaged to me?"_

_"That's not what I am saying." She took a seat next to him. "Seth, look, this isn't about you, I know that you lived so long in this little bubble that would have burst without Ryan, but not everything is about you." _

_"I know," He sighed, "But I just don't think I can pretend right now. We've been together for four years, even when you were dispersed across the country, we made it work, but now, I just don't feel like I can make it work if you can't even devote yourself to me."_

_"I can devote myself to you." She insisted. "I just can't promise that nothing will change." _

_Seth looked at her, he looked deep into her soulful eyes, and the words fell with great force. "I don't think that's good enough." _

_"So what are you saying?" Summer asked wide-eyed, she knew what was coming, she anticipated the blow, but nothing could calm her shaking spirits. _

_"Maybe," He said softly, trying to forget that he was sitting in front of, what he considered to be, one of the most romantic places in the world. "Maybe we should try not being a couple for a while."_

_She could have fought, she could have screamed and yelled, but somehow the words came out as a simple: "Okay." _

_That night, as they laid next to each other in a small cramped bed, it felt unnaturally cold. Summer couldn't sleep, she could barely breathe, all she could do was watch Seth. In those few brief hours before they said their good-byes she had memorized his silhouette and the way he moved his hands around as if he was telling a story to a captivated dream audience. _

_The next morning she said she would be back as planned. She said she would still come to Berkeley to see Ryan, Taylor, and him. She kissed him with more force than usual, knowing that she wasn't supposed to be kissing him. Or touching him the way she had. They had broken up the night before in front of the Trevi Fountain and she realized, at that moment, that nothing would ever be the same again. _

Sometimes she wondered why she needed that memory, why she depended on it the way she did. But then she thought about what happened afterwards. She thought about how she never went home, but still managed to make her own. She thought about even though she missed Seth with all her heart, with all her soul, leaving him for so long matured her. When she looked in the mirror in the morning, on the way to her store, a store, which was built on her two passions: the environment and fashion, she could see it in her face.

If she was sitting on this beach years ago she wouldn't have imagined living in Boston. In fact, she wouldn't have thought about anything other than Marissa, Ryan, Marissa and Ryan, Seth, the west coast, clothes, and tanning. Now her thoughts were sporadic, coming and going as they pleased but she still thought about all those things.

She designed clothing for a living, which made that a given. But beyond everything, Seth managed to be more prevalent, and as that little girl ran toward her, carrying a starfish in hand, the thought of him became so overwhelming that she wanted to double over. She wanted to ball, but instead, she listened intently.

"Look what I found mommy!" The little girl exclaimed with excitement, handing her mother the small starfish. "It's like in Nemo." She added, flipping her dark hair.

"That it is." Summer said, pulling her daughter into her arms. "That it is," she repeated, pushing the bangs out of the young girl's eyes.

"Why are we here?" The child asked, curiously.

"Well, my little angel, we're here to see some of Mommy's old friends." The youngster turned to face her mother. "And they'll be angry at first. The way you were angry when the flight attendant didn't give you your wings. They'll get over it though but it may take time, we have time though, right?"

The girl mused for a moment, before repeating with great enthusiasm, "Right."

Sitting there in front of the water, watching as the clouds moved farther back into the sky, she thought about the Cohens and Sophie. She thought about Seth, Julie, Taylor, Ryan, and Kaitlin; all the remnants of her old life, and she was excited by the idea of seeing everyone again, all she had to do was make this stop in Newport and then she could head up the coast to Berkley. Years ago she had saved Chrismukkah, and now, it was Chrismukkah's time to save her from the guilt that had consumed her for so long.

Sometimes a thought whispered in her ear. What if she had gotten engaged to Seth? Would she have felt trapped after she found out she was pregnant? Would she have succumbed to the level of a newpsie in some other city? Would she have finished college? Would everything had been all right? Sometimes after the snow sets in in Boston and the perfect time for self-pity approaches, all Summer can do is wonder what life would have been like if she wasn't so goddamn stubborn.

After all, Seth was her destiny, right?

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**Well, what do you think? I would appreciate reviews. Good, bad, semi-off color, whatever; though, bad reviews aren't my favorite by any stretch of the imagination.

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	2. Just In The Neighborhood

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A Chrismukkah After All These Years 

**Chapter Two:**

**Just In The Neighborhood**

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He pushed his feet into the sand, his signature shoes providing only the barest of protection from the elements. Something about this weather got to him; he was used to the cold by now. He had spent six winters in it; however, something about the Berkeley air sent chills down his spine every time he returned home for the holidays. 

To him California was a warm place; it was a calling card for faux surfers and bored alcoholic socialites. It was not a place where you needed a jacket in the off-season or heavy socks to keep your feet from freezing.

That first winter when he came home, after being in Providence for so long, the chill in the air had felt like nothing. Looking back on it he couldn't decide what the reason for that was. He either hadn't experienced the cold because it was no comparison to his first New England winter or because he had her to look forward to. His head leaned toward the first answer but his heart was entrapped with the second.

He took the cup in his hand and quickly chugged the rest of its contents. The warm liquid poured down his throat, opened up his nasal cavities, and slowly shook him into a state of awareness. Drinking coffee wasn't something he was used to growing up. Sure he had done it, experimenting with the crazy concoctions that were ever-so popular with the Southern California crowd. On a few occasions the caffeinated delight had even gotten him into trouble. However, there was nothing like a winter in Rhode Island to make you realize the need for such rudimentary tools and thus his obsession with Colombian blends had begun.

He stood in the sand as if stuck in a trance. The water was beautiful and majestic, so beautiful in fact, that it almost made him forget that the wind was wiping at his body; a brief lapse in concentration and he might have flown backwards. After all, he may have matured over the years, even in the most basic of forms, but Seth Cohen was still as scrawny as ever.

When he made his way back into the car he paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath, ignoring everyone and everything. He let the smell of salt water fill his nostrils before closing the vehicle's door.

"Thinking about something?" The woman in the passenger's seat asked, turning down the stereo, which was blasting Death Cab obnoxiously loud. She carefully moved strands of hair from in front of her eyes and turned to face Seth, staring at him with curiosity.

"Yeah," he said softly, before taking a dramatic pause. "The coffee," he was blunt and his voice was coarse, "Way too fruity."

"Coffee?" The blonde questioned, her soft voice sounding outlandish. Seth nodded in response. "We both know when you stepped into the car that you were not thinking about coffee."

"Why couldn't have I been thinking about coffee?" He asked, "I mean why is it so hard to find a decent cup of it around here? If I am going to buy coffee it should bitter." He said with a sigh, "We're not talking about one of Summer's frou frou drinks; we're talking about hot, black coffee."

The girl twirled a strand of hair. "You're doing it again," she warned, shooting him a glare.

"Doing what?" Seth questioned, waiting for an answer that did not come, "What am I doing Anna?"

"You're talking about her again."

"I am not allowed to talk about Summer?" He asked, "When did this become a rule?"

"No." Anna responded quickly, "You're allowed to talk about Summer." Seth stared at her confused. "You're just not allowed to talk about Summer in a present tense. What is today's date Seth?"

"December 17, 2013."

"When she sent you that letter saying she had extended her trip, what was the date she said she was coming back?" She questioned.

"August 17, 2008." Seth looked deep into her eyes. "Why do I have to repeat this? I know she never came back. I know that I waited at the airport for eight hours, I know all of this. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because, whether you like it or not, I am your best friend. And as your best friend I have given up the past three Christmas' in Pittsburgh to be with you." Anna informed him. "And despite the entertainment value, I don't need another Christmas Eve where you drink like Bob Ewell and confess you're love for Summer Roberts repeatedly."

Seth smirked, his eyes growing wider. "Relax. No whiskey for me this year."

"Whiskey?" Anna questioned raising an eyebrow, "I think that you mean eggnog."

"Eggnog with whiskey, so it's whiskey by default," Seth informed her.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Doesn't matter," Seth said, clamping a foot onto the break and putting the car into reverse. "All that matters is that this is going to be the best Chrismukkah ever. Just you wait and see."

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He stood in his apartment's doorway, leaning against it smugly, slyly. If it had been anyone else, any other girl, he might have had a shoot. Unfortunately, this girl had been shooting him down since the tenth grade. "Summer Roberts," he said with a smile, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He ran a hand through his blonde hair. 

"Zooey detail," Summer informed him. "I thought we already established this. Seriously Luke, you better not back out on me. I don't know anyone else in San Francisco."

"Except Cohen," Luke added, looking down at the petite brunette.

"Technically, Cohen is in Berkeley and additionally, if it wasn't for Cohen I wouldn't have needed you to baby-sit in the first place. Besides I don't think Seth lives in Berkeley year round."

"Who's Cohen?" The young brunette, whose arms were tightly wound around Summer's right leg, questioned.

Summer couldn't bring herself to answer, the words lingered a top her tongue, but no sound came out. In the end, it was Luke who responded. "That's not important right now, Zo."

"Sure sounds important." Zooey informed him, putting her hands on her hips and scowling at Luke inquisitively.

"Yeah, but you know what's more important?" He asked. The young girl shook her head. "Going to the movies and then getting ice cream?"

"Really?" The child's eyes lit up.

"Isn't it a little too cold for ice cream?" Summer questioned, shooting Luke one of her death-defying glares.

"It's never too cold for ice cream." He responded, leaning down to Zooey's height. "Can you go into the other room and wait until your mother and I are done talking?" Zooey nodded and found her way into the living room.

Summer stared at the man for a moment. He was as muscular as ever, the same water polo player she had remembered from high school. She raised an arm in the air and quickly slapped the side of his face. "What was that about?" Luke questioned rubbing the area she had just assaulted.

"You giving my daughter ice cream when I asked you not to." Summer replied.

"You didn't ask me not to."

"It was implied!" Summer said forcefully.

"I have to tell you Sum," he began softly. "Every time I see that daughter of yours she looks more and more like you. Plus, she acts like you did at her age too."

Summer scoffed. "You don't remember how I acted when I was Zooey's age."

"Of course I do. We were married in second grade after all."

"I forget about that," Summer told him repressing a laugh.

"I figured as much." He hadn't expected to meet Summer again, under the circumstances in which he had. It had been four years ago and she was bartending. He remembered seeing her as clear as day, but thinking he was in some sort of very vivid dream. After all, Summer Roberts wasn't the type of girl who bartended and Summer Roberts certainly wasn't the type of girl who moved to the Northeast. Though, Summer Roberts also wasn't the type of girl who got pregnant at twenty with no man to fall back on.

"You're going to tell him right?" He asked. The tone in his voice was truly genuine. He had come to treat Summer like the sister he never had over the past few years.

"I'm gonna try." She assured him, her voice was small and though hidden, it slightly trembled as she spoke.

"Good, because Kitty Pryde over there needs to get to know her father," Luke informed her.

"X-Men reference," Summer noted, adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

"I'm surprised you got it."

"Well Zooey really loves those mutants." Summer stated, heading into Luke's immaculate apartment. "You really do have a gay father, huh?" She added in a mutter, a mutter which Luke pretended not to hear.

Summer hugged her daughter, kissed her cheek, and held her in her arms an excessively long time. If everything went according to plan, her daughter would have a father by week's end. She had to cherish the moments she had left as best she could; it wouldn't be long until she had to share and Summer Roberts wasn't used to sharing. "Mama, you're hurting me." Zooey informed her as the grasp around her continued to tighten.

"Sorry," Summer replied, pulling away. "Now remember Luke, don't give her too much junk." She warned and with that she headed toward the door.

"Wait, Summer?" He called after her when she reached the doorway. "What flowers did you leave her when you were in Newport?"

"Cornflowers," Summer said softly.

"She always liked those." Luke replied.

"Yeah, cause they're as blue as the ocean." Summer told him. She suppressed a smile at the memory of her friend and quietly headed out of the room, shutting the door behind her as she filed out.

* * *

She paced the sidewalk, her heart beating loud, so loud in fact, that she could hear it pulsating against her eardrums. She hadn't been in this neighborhood, this city, this half of her home state in five, very long, years. Yet, somehow, all the houses, all the lawns, managed to stay the same. 

The respective house was in front of her, it stood out like the nightlight in Zooey's unlit bedroom. The dark green window sills held her gaze, and the quaint porch called for her to climb the steps. As she passed the house, walking back and forward over and over again, all she wanted to do was run up there and ring the doorbell. The only problem was she couldn't do it.

Every time she got closer to those steps or made her way to get on the porch her breathing became harder. Her air passages closed, and maybe it was just some sort of mental break, however, there was nothing that would calm it.

"I can't do this!" She finally admitted falling back against a tree on the edge someone's yard.

"Can't do what?" A man asked as he walked by. She didn't look at him. She didn't see his face, but something about his voice sent shivers down her spine and the fear that ensnared her caused her bag to fall flat against the concrete, its contents spilling everywhere. "Here let me help you with that," He volunteered, bending down to the ground. She followed in his action and before she could thank him, he noticed her face and stopped dead in his tracks. "Summer, Summer Roberts."

The sound of her name made continue faster than expected. The phone went in, the pens, the business cards, one by one they made their way into that bag. Eventually though she had to stop in order to see the man behind the voice, the man who had gotten on his knees to help pick up her scattered items. _Ryan?_ She thought, but in the end she was wrong. "Mr. Cohen," She said softly, watching as those bushy eyebrows danced in front of her. She smiled slightly and said a silent prayer; she had always hoped her daughter wouldn't inherit eyebrows remotely close to his.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned looking deep into Summer's eyes, as if they were going to tell the story that Summer wasn't.

Summer stayed silent, she bit her lip. She had no idea how to answer this question. "Just in the neighborhood," she ended up saying. Mindlessly shoving items back into her purse.

"Then come inside for a moment, I am sure we have a lot to discuss." He replied, trying to make the tone of his voice inviting. Even though, this was the woman who had broken his son's heart. If it hadn't been for her, Seth might have been married and he might be getting his first grandchild this year. He silently cursed the plan in his head.

"You know, I can't right now. I thought I could, but I can't." Her voice was quieter than he had ever remembered hearing it. She stood up slowly, "Look, this may sound like an odd request, but please don't tell Seth that you saw me. At least not until I get a chance to see him that is."

"Believe me," Sandy began, "I won't." And though she didn't know how to take that statement, Summer smiled graciously, thanked him, and went on her way. It wasn't until she was out of sight, that he saw it glittering on the gray sidewalk. It was a square plastic key to a room in Hotel Durant. He grabbed it, clutching it firmly in his hand and inhaled slightly.

This was just the sign he needed.

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**Author's Note:**

Thank you for all of the feedback. I greatly appreciate it. Hopefully, you guys liked this chapter as well and the feedback continues.

Oh! And just in case you guys look at the name Zooey and want to scratch your heads, it's pronounced like Zoë not Zoo-ee.

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	3. Zooey

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years **_

**Chapter Three: **

**Z-O-O-E-Y **

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He could remember the day his son came home with that crumpled piece of paper clutched firmly in his hand rambling about that damn mermaid poem. The thing he failed to realize on that day was that that poem would change his son's life. Summer Roberts would become the greatest obsession Seth Cohen would ever know. 

He could remember the morning his son first asked him for sex advice. He could remember how proud he was at that moment. His son, the one who mere months ago had gone on and on about moving to the east coast had a girl, a real life girl.

He could remember the night his son came home from the airport. This time it wasn't a crumpled piece of paper that he clutched in his hand. This time it was a bouquet of wilted roses. This time his eyes didn't show hints of excitement, this time he just looked depressed, as if he had learned of his grandmother's passing.

Not one of those days led him to think it would have ended like this. Summer Roberts loved his son and Sandy Cohen was a firm believer that love conquered all, he just wasn't sure how exactly a five year absence fit into those plans.

He examined the door closely, the modern gold numbers sticking out at him in a way they never would have before. He took in a deep breath. He wasn't doing this for her. He no longer cared about her. The girl he had once thought would be a Cohen family staple was now just a memory. She was simply the girl who broke his son's heart. He was doing this for Seth. All he had to do was remember that.

He pushed his knuckles firmly into the door. Hoping that she could shed some light. Give him a good explanation. He wasn't sure there was a good explanation, but at this moment any reasonable rationalization would work.

The door opened slowly and standing on the other side was not the petite woman he was searching. "Hello." A young girl greeted, her voice and height rivaled that of his daughter, his Sophie.

"Hello." He responded, confused as to the child's presence. He stared at her silently, observing her mannerisms and the way she tossed her hair waiting for her observer to speak.

"Zooey Odessa Roberts!" A woman exclaimed walking toward the wide open door. He recognized that voice. The tone, the inflection, this woman had yelled at his son many a time. "How many times have I told you not to answer the door?"

"A lot of times." The little girl replied. "I didn't mean to, but there was a knock. Knock means open."

"Yes, but there could be rapists, kidnappers, or murderers, bad people could knock on that door and if you answered I might never see you again." Summer told her, bending down and looking her straight in the eye.

"But look at him, does he seem bad to you?"

Summer did as she was told, peering at the man who towered over all those present in the room and at that moment everything went blank. She meant to speak, she tried to let the words fall from her lips, but all that she tried to say just came out in a murmur. "Um."

"What? Is he bad?" Zooey questioned staring at the man in a much different light. Her head tilted to the left and her inquisitive nature shone through.

"What? No. Of course – no, he's fine, perfectly fine. Nice even, absurdly, perfectly, scarily nice." Summer told her quietly, "Look, how about you go in the other room and watch cartoons."

"Utto." Zooey warned. "Never good. Cartoons are never good for other people." And with that she wandered off farther back into the hotel room.

Sandy gazed into the room, waiting until the little girl was out of sight, before initiating conversation. "So."

"So." Summer mimicked, shimmying out the door, checking her pocket for the room key before letting it slam shut. She averted her eyes from the man before her.

"Care to explain why a little girl with the Cohen jaw line and classic lip curvature is sitting in your hotel room watching television?"

"It's kind of a long story." Summer said with a shrug, not allowing her eyes to touch base.

"I've got nothing but time." Sandy replied trying to get a glimpse of the chocolate orbs she desperately tried to hide.

She evaded his gaze, trying as hard as possible, but as time went on it became hopeless and when their eyes mad contact the words flew out of her mouth. "I was twenty-years old." She paused biting her lip. "I was twenty-years old and your son broke up with me. Not in so many words, but in essence. And I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to get married, I wasn't ready to have a kid and I knew the second I told Seth that he would be on his knee again asking me to marry him and I didn't want to become my mother."

She sighed, "I didn't want to become some embittered woman who took off at the drop of a hat. So I pretended, I pretended not to care about Seth, and I pretended that there was no father. I pretended it was only me and for a while it worked, but she started getting older and every time I looked into those big eyes I thought of him. I thought of Seth, but I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what to do and in the end it took longer to come around then I thought but here I am. I still have no idea what to say, I still have no idea what to do, but I am trying."

"She's five then?" Sandy questioned.

Summer nodded. "As of November 16."

"We have a lot to talk about." He replied, trying to seem comfortable in this woman's presence.

"Yeah, we do." Summer agreed. "Look I saw this park around the corner and we could take Zooey there. She could play and you and I, we could drink coffee."

"That'll work."

* * *

She looked at the ring on her finger, the colors it gave off when in the light made her smile. She wished she could sparkle like that, she wished she could show Ryan the immense excitement she held in her gut. Not that it would matter; it wasn't like he could give a response. It wasn't like he could be near as excited as her. It wasn't like he could even show a normal level of excitement. He was Ryan Atwood and in a couple of months she would be Mrs. Ryan Atwood – despite how sexist that sounded – and she was just going to have to live with that. 

"I am thinking Paris," she told him. "It'll be spring, not too hot, not too cold. And the tourists will still be at home waiting for their tax checks to come in and their dreary weather to clear." She mused for a moment, "Not that that will matter."

He eyed her curiously, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Lets just say I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve." She flashed a devilish smile.

"And I am guessing I am going to want to be there for these tricks." He said raising an eyebrow and flipping aimlessly through the pages in the magazine that had been stuffed under his nose.

"Well, unless you want to sightsee."

"We've got our whole lives to sightsee Taylor," He informed her. She nodded. "Plus the hotel is going to have a fantastic view"

"The best."

"We'll kill two birds with one stone." He replied.

"That's why I love you, always thinking ahead." She stated, "Ah, Paris in spring! You'll love it." He grunted. "What is that about? What's wrong with Paris? This is your honeymoon too, you have a say."

"What makes you think anything's wrong with Paris?"

"We've been together like six years." Taylor informed him, "I know your grunts."

"It's just France." His fiancé eyed him wearily. "You and France have a lot of history, you got married to a pompous, French author. The French wouldn't let you get a divorce without a lover. The pompous, French author you married wrote a sexual expose about you. When we broke up you went back to Paris. That's a lot of history."

"His name was Henri-Michel." Taylor enlightened him.

"I know his name, I just didn't think it was essential."

"What did you have in mind?" She allowed her ears to perk up for an answer.

"Venice, a gondola ride, perhaps." He shrugged, "That is unless you got hot and heavy with some Italian guy that I should know about."

Taylor thought for a moment, "No. I think we're all clear."

"Good." He held up the magazine in his hand. "Now what I am supposed to do with this?"

"Circle silverware."

"We already have silverware." He reminded her, not thrilled about the task at hand.

"Not nice silverware."

"Looks pretty nice to me." He informed her with a sigh.

* * *

This was not her idea. This was most certainly not her idea. She didn't want to go back to that house. She couldn't even muster the strength to ring the doorbell that morning, what made him think she wanted to go back there again? It was probably a lack of thinking. They had done a lot of talking and now it was time for action. He didn't care if it inconvinanced her. He didn't care that it wasn't just letting Seth digest the idea of a daughter. He didn't care that it was shoving his granddaughter down his son's throat, or maybe he did, maybe he cared, maybe he just didn't know what else to do. 

Whatever the answer Summer could not think straight. Her teeth grinded against one another and her hands shook. She wasn't prepared to face him. She wasn't prepared to sleep in the same house as him. She could barely even remember the English language.

"Look, can we just go back to the hotel? Zooey's asleep and waking Zooey up, even if it is to introduce her to her father is not going to go over well." Summer begged, she was more desperate then she had ever been.

"You won't have to wake her up." Sandy promised, "But if that is Seth's daughter than she's my granddaughter and I don't want to let her slip away. I've missed out on five years with her and I don't want to miss anymore. And, well, the truth is Summer, I've always liked you, but I think it's going to be a while before I can trust you again."

"I understand." Summer replied. "This is just unnaturally hard."

"I promise it wouldn't be any easier if you were staying in that hotel of yours."

"You're probably right." Summer said with a sigh. Silence once again overwhelmed the speeding vehicle; the lack of noise pierced her brain and kept her on edge. "He named her you know." She informed her ex-boyfriend's father, desperate for a noise of any proportion.

"What?" Sandy questioned, turning onto a well-lit street.

"Those months we spent locked up in his bedroom, the television our only companion. Well one day we were watching _Briefcase or No Briefcase_ and there was this contestant. She had some really obscure name. She shared it with a brand, Pepsi Cola, something unbelievably far-fetched, you know one of those almost child abusing kind of names." She smiled, "Anyway, we started talking about the names we liked and I had my list uber-classical names and then there were Seth's names, some of which were insane. And then he said Zoë, but he couldn't leave it as simple as that. No, Z-O-E was missing something. Z-O-E-Y didn't look right on paper. Z-O-O-E-Y though was perfect. And I probably made some Zoo jokes and was revolted by the spelling, I don't remember. All I remember was it was time to name that little pink bundle and Zooey was the only name that came to mind."

"You should tell him that," he said pulling into the driveway.

"I should tell him a lot of things," she sighed. Slowly gaining the courage to leave the car and grab one of the bags in the trunk. She clutched it with all her might; sweat making the handle slide back and forth in her hand. She followed the eldest Cohen male into his house, feeling like a stranger trapped in a world belonging to the xenophobic.

She could hear Seth in some other room asking what his father's surprise was. She was the surprise. She had to be the surprise and she was well aware of the fact that she was not a very good one. She dropped the bag off the same place Sandy had and wrapped her hand around the banister, waiting for the entire family to come out. Waiting for the mob to lynch.

She could feel his eyes on her before he said anything. The heat, the intensity made her want to run scared, but she had done that before. He had done that before. It was time that they faced things head on for once.

"Summer?" Kirsten questioned in disbelief.

"Summer?" Seth asked, in a tone that was a near replica of his mother's.

"Yes?" She replied, trying to sound sweet. Trying to sound wholesome. Trying to remove a little bit of the bad thoughts that had to be associated with her name.

"Hey Kirsten, how about you and I go check on Sophie." Sandy suggested, trying to intervene a little.

"Good idea," Kirsten replied softly, patting her son on the back and following her husband.

It didn't take long for that fatal question to come, cloaked in the hostility that she expected. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I came to see you." She said simply, allowing her shoulders to fall back. "Look, earlier today I had a hotel room. And then your father comes and tells me that I can't stay at my hotel. He tells me that I have to be headstrong; I have to face my problem and well Seth you are, in essence, my problem. You are what I've been avoiding for five years and it hasn't been with good intention. It's been with fear. And none of this makes sense to you now, but it will."

"He intervenes with everything doesn't he? No problem to great that Sandy Cohen can't solve." Seth seethed.

"I guess." Summer replied, "I have to go get something very valuable out of the car. So if you don't mind maybe we could continue this later." She was doing it; she was running, maybe not in the normal way. She wasn't going to take a car and hall it to Mexico City, she was however, going to get as far from talking to Seth as she could.

"You can't keep walking away!" Seth shouted after her, heading out the front door. "You never came back and that in itself is unforgivable, but leaving again, that's downright – it's wrong. You know it and I know it. We need to talk this out."

She stopped on the porch steps. "I am not leaving." She sighed. "It was an avoidance stradgedy yes, but I really do have something valuable to get out of the car. I am not lying about that."

"What on Earth do you have that is that valuable?" It didn't take long before his question was answered. It was poised in between her arms. She was poised in between her arms. Her dark hair streaming down her back, her small arms hugging his ex-girlfriend's shoulder blades. He couldn't see her face, but the peace in her sleeping body was nothing short of spectacular.

"See what I meant?" Summer questioned when she reached Seth quietly trying not to stir her sleeping daughter.

"What's her name?" Seth replied, using the same intensity.

She stayed silent for a while before letting the name roll off her tongue, "Zooey."

"Z-O-E?" He questioned, the name meaning more to him then he had expected.

She shook her head before spelling, "Z-O-O-E-Y." And with that she slowly filed into the warm house that stood behind her.

Seth leaned against the railing, unsure about what to take from her casual revelation. He couldn't be a father. She had left. She never came back from her "vacation," their "vacation." Summer wouldn't have done that, not if she was pregnant with his child, not if she was pregnant with their child.

Or would she? Did she?

* * *

**Author's Note: **

It took me a long time to update, yes, this I know. However, in my defense, it was the holidays and finals. Not to mention the fact that I just got my computer fixed. It was having some severe issues. Anyway, I appreciate the reviews hopefully you liked this chapter and hopefully you keep the reviews coming. Thanks for reading!


	4. Breakfast of Champions

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years**_

**Chapter Four:**

**Breakfast of Champions  
**

* * *

He stared into his cereal, wide-eyed. This was not how he imagined things. When he thought about Summer, she stayed consistent to the sketch he had embedded in his brain years ago, except she was older and ready to admit to her mistakes. In his delusions, in his fantasies, he would quickly forgive her, no matter how asinine that seemed in reality. But never did he imagine this. He was twenty-five, he was supposed to be marrying someone right about now and having his children in the next few years. He was not supposed to be the father of a child no one had informed him about. This was not part of the grandmaster plan. He had spent half a decade pining over a woman he thought he could forgive, but staring into that dark blue bowl, he finally realized that forgiveness didn't come that easily.

He watched as the milk on his spoon quickly fell back into the bowl. The brightly colored specks floating in the white sea reminded him of teething rings and mobiles, all the things he had missed.

"You know Seth, if you weren't going to show up you could have said something," he heard from the corner of his mind. "Anna was pissed."

"Huh?" He questioned softly, it was obvious he hadn't slept.

"The ballet. The Nutcracker," she reminded him. "Our yearly tradition in which we bet how long it takes Ryan to fall asleep."

"Thirty-two minutes," Her fiancé added in the background.

"I finally won," Seth muttered, playing with the shiny spoon in his hand.

"Yes, but you weren't there to collect your prize." Taylor paused, before raising her voice. "Where were you?"

"Here," he said simply.

"Here?" She questioned, he nodded. "Here?" She repeated softly, stopping to examine the man she was ineffectively interrogating. His eyes were red, he looked upset and unkempt. "What's wrong Seth?"

He turned to look his future sister-in-law in the eye, "Nothing. My whole outlook on life is just falling apart."

"I think we're going to need more than that," Ryan suggested.

"While you were out, enjoying your parade of leotards and tights, I was here, thinking about Summer…" He began.

"How many times do we have to tell you to move on with your life? She's not coming back." Taylor took a seat at the table. "I mean, I miss her too and it makes no sense why she left. She was the best girlfriend I ever had, actually, more like the only girlfriend I've ever had, and I wish she would, but she's not."

"She's upstairs," Seth informed his eccentric blonde friend. "And she left because of me."

"Summer Roberts? Petite woman with big eyes and a strange knack to surprise people? That Summer Roberts?" Taylor questioned.

"That'd be the one." Seth nodded. "Sandy Cohen, tenured, Berkeley law professor, who has to meddle in everything, brought her over last night. His big surprise, which was no comparison to her big surprise. Let's just say it was a big night and I didn't get a lot of answers."

Ryan and Taylor looked at each other and then back at their friend. "We just have to ask," Ryan began. "Are you sure you aren't wasted?" Taylor finished.

Seth opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before a sound could come out. "Wasted. What does that mean?" Everyone turned to look at the tiny brunette standing in the doorway. They stared at her, vision refusing to fleet and in return she squinted. "Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"To waste," Taylor stated. "For example, Seth over there wasted his cereal."

"I knew that." She rolled her eyes, "But it didn't seem like you were using it that way. Ms. Cassidy says that some words have two meanings."

"Are you one of Sophie's friends?" Ryan questioned.

"Who's Sophie?" The little girl asked in reply.

"Sophie is my sister." Seth smiled, looking into the little girl's, his little girl's big brown eyes. "I'm Seth, an old friend of your mom."

"My uncle Luke mentioned you yesterday." A huge smile crossed her face, "He said you liked comic books and even started Atomic County. He said you were a really cool guy and mommy smiled and smiled."

"Luke Ward?" Seth questioned.

"Yes'um." Zooey replied. "He's not really my uncle. Mommy and him went to school together and re-met when he went to the BU and now he lives out here and I only see him when he comes and visits Lucy."

The room fell silent for a moment, but Zooey quickly piped up. "You have Chuck's." She said, "I have Chuck's too, but I can't wear them right now because it's too cold."

"Where exactly do you live?" Seth asked.

"Boston." Was the reply he received, but it didn't come from his newly discovered child, it came from her mother, the heartbreaker. "Well, Cambridge really." She stood in the doorway, resting a hand on her daughter's head. "Zooey how about we eat," She suggested, lowering her voice, and avoiding Seth's gaze. "I know for a fact this house is a haven for bagels and cereal." The child nodded.

"I guess you weren't wasted," Taylor stated, staring at the woman who left them years ago.

Seth's eyes followed his favorite brunette as she took each step, as made each move, she was a chess piece, and whenever he caught a glimpse of her eyes he felt like he was sixteen again. He felt like they were sophomores in high school. He left that summer with no intentions of coming back and if it hadn't had been for Ryan he probably would have stayed in Portland with the Ward clan. But he made it back to Newport and she forgave him and though it wasn't the same, looking into her eyes the slate wiped clean. Tabula Rasa. He could forgive her.

Couldn't he?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I officially suck at updating things, I know. And no, it's not your imagination, this is pretty short, but hopefully you can forgive me. I think I might perhaps get better at updating this in the near future, I guess we'll just have to wait and see. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I also hope you review. Reviews do inspire me to update, it may not seem like it, but I promise, they do. Thank you for reading!

* * *


	5. Like the Ukraine

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years**_

**Chapter Five:**

**Like the Ukraine  
**

* * *

There was a chill in the air, a kind of chill that would have driven them up the wall years ago. He could imagine her complaining. She could imagine him giving up his jacket only when forced. Rage blackouts were good for so many things. She sighed. He sighed. They started a symphony of random noises. Summer looked down into her coffee cup. Seth looked down into his. She felt like she was playing Simon Says, he obviously wanted her to be the first one to speak, but she didn't know what to say. She didn't know where to begin.

"I wasn't there." He finally said, "I would've been there. I loved you so much and you didn't even tell me you were pregnant."

She sat silently for a minute trying to think up a reply. "I postponed my return, because you broke up with me. I was totally depressed and I kind of just wandered around like a vagrant, then one day, I was sitting in some boulangerie in Nice and it occurred to me that I hadn't had my period in months. I just sat there for a while scarred shitless, because, I knew. I hadn't taken a test, but I knew, and then I thought about you. You know, WWCD, what would Cohen do?"

"I would have been a father," he replied. "I don't get the question."

"No. You really don't. You spent your childhood trying and failing to fit in. I never had to try. Then I went to college and I lost myself, but you went and had friends and happiness in five minutes. You were doing amazing and I couldn't help but think that if I came back I'd screw it up. The experience wouldn't be the same with a kid to deal with and I wanted you to be happy."

He moved his lips to speak, but she cut him off. "Shh." She demanded, putting a finger to her lips. "My mom was twenty when she married my dad, and they had money because, he was seven years older and already slicing into people. We wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. We'd have to get jobs, your grades would slip, and on top of that, you'd ask me that question again. That question, I wasn't ready to say yes to and I would have felt so much pressure.

"I already had the story worked out in my head. Thirteen years down the line, you would have a college degree, whereas, I probably wouldn't and if I did it probably be from like University of Phoenix. And we'd live in some little suburban community and I'd probably resent you for making me get married. I'd probably resent you for making it so easy for me to lean on you that I never stood up straight. And odds are, I would have left. I'd go in our daughter's room in the middle of the night, pathetically kiss her on the forehead and say, "I've got to go away for a while."

Seth opened his mouth, but no words came out. "You can speak now." She said.

"I wouldn't have made you get married. I wouldn't have made it easy for you to lean on me." He told her simply.

"Yes, you would have. You'd want to rescue me." She bit her lip, "And I didn't want to be rescued."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"Of course it doesn't. Nothing will."

"I wasn't there for the birth, or her first steps, or her first word. I wasn't there for the firsts." He looked at her. She didn't want to resent him, she'd said, but the truth was, he resented her.

"There are a lot more firsts." She informed him, "Plus you wouldn't have wanted to be there for the birth. I didn't even want to be there."

"Yes. I would have."

"I talked my father into getting me a visa. He has friends high up and I didn't want to go home. I didn't tell him why I wanted it, but he did it anyway." She paused, letting the memory invade her brain. "It's an awful story. I was seven months pregnant and I got clearance to fly back home, but I had to make one more stop. I had to go to Prague. I was on this train going through the Ukraine, which is actually a pretty place, and halfway there the train stops in some long dark tunnel. I hadn't paid for my own cabin, so I was out with people, and most of them didn't speak English.

"I started freaking out, the lights were flickering and sometimes we were in total darkness. Twenty minutes passed and the train didn't move. Thirty minutes passed and the train didn't move. Forty minutes passed and my water broke. There were three Americans in my cabin, a man and his two little kids and he pretty much shoved his video camera in my face the whole time. "The wonder of birth," he said. The radio signal was down and no one on the train was a doctor. Going back and forth between the cabins, the most qualified person they could find was a Russian vet.

"There were no open sleeping quarters and the people in those cabins were miraculously asleep. It happened really fast and next thing you know, I'm pushing in the middle of some broken-down train in the Ukraine, two and a half months early, because if you really do the math pregnancies last like nine and a half months." She paused, "It was painful. It was awful. It was scary and if you don't believe me I've got it on tape."

"In the Ukraine?" He questioned.

"In the Ukraine," she said softly. "They took us to a hospital in Odessa, when they got the signal back and what not. A week later they flew us to England, a week after that they flew us to Boston, and I haven't left since."

"Boston." He shook his head. "A little over an hour from Providence. You were there the whole time."

"The whole time," she repeated. "We just weren't meant to meet."

"Like we weren't meant to get married," he scoffed.

"Like we weren't meant to get married." She repeated. "Like I wasn't meant to lean on you. You probably don't care right know, but I started my own business. I'm months ahead on my apartment rent. I have very little debt, and I'm a few months away from getting my degree from Boston University. I got a lot of aid, and a lot of tips when I bartended."

"I kind of care," he muttered, in typical Seth Cohen fashion.

"I'm glad." She ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth. "Look, I screwed this up. It's my fault entirely and you probably hate me, but none of that matters. All that matters is that you get close to your daughter. I'll have to be around the first few days, because, I like to pretend that my daughter doesn't take kindly to strangers. Pretend being the operative word, but after that, you can have her to yourself, take her around the city, I don't know. Find your common ground."

"I'd like that."

"And before we leave," she clenched her eyes shut. "I will tell Zooey Odessa Roberts that she should be Zooey Odessa Cohen."

"Odessa?" He questioned, a smile spreading across the his face. "Like the Ukraine."

"Like the Ukraine," she repeated.

"I should go there," he mused.

"Just don't ride the train." She took a sip of her coffee.

In the driveway, a car door slammed shut. Summer looked over intently, out came Julie Cooper. Out came Katlin Cooper, and out came little Cooper-Atwood. He was a handsome little devil, Summer noted. When they approached the steps, the women were taken aback.

"Summer Roberts?" Julie questioned.

"Summer Roberts," Katlin said, somewhat mischievously.

"That'd be my name."

"I knew you'd come back. I had a feeling." Katlin smiled, "Anna owes me two-hundred bucks."

Julie gave her the once over before focusing on her eyes. Where had she gone? What had she done? And why was she back?

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I updated within two weeks. Yay! That's sadly probably a record. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. You know the drill.

* * *


	6. Sunglasses and Postcards

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years **_

**Chapter One: **

**Sunglasses and Postcards  
**

**

* * *

**

They were a shade of pink he hadn't seen in years, light pink, delicate, the epitome of girlhood. They were cheap and plastic, anywhere else they would have been forgettable, passable, pointless; but on her they were magical. Her big brown eyes sent rays of sunshine off from behind them, the most beautiful pair of heart-shaped glasses. She giggled, swinging bank and forth, legs pumping faster.

"Are you scared of the swings?" The little girl asked him, her hair tossing wildly in the wind. "'Cause you look nervous. Are you nervous?"

He shook his head. "I'm not nervous."

"Good, because you shouldn't be. I'm not going to hurt myself Mr. Cohen." Her feet stopped moving; she let them dangle down above the lush green grass. "Nope. I'm a swinging queen. Queen of the playground."

"Queen of the entire playground?" Seth questioned, watching as she dug her feet into the ground.

"Yup. Well, no. I'm a queen. Queen of the swings and the slides, but not the monkey bars. Jenna's queen of the monkey bars."

"Who's Jenna?"

"Jenna is my bestest friend in the entire world," she smiled. "Do you have a best friend, Mr.?

Seth stared at her for a moment. Her eyes were wide open, her teeth were clenched in a smile, and her skin was lightly tanned, despite the current season. She looked like her mother. Staring at her dreamily smiling away, he could remember the moment he fell in love with her mom. He could remember the way the mermaid poem felt clutched in his sweaty palm. Summer may not have been his anymore, but Zooey with her brown hair and placid countenance, would be his forevermore. The words she just said played out in his head, each syllable turning over and over. He sighed. "I know your mom has tried very hard to raise you to be polite, but you don't have to call me mister. In fact, I would greatly appreciate it if you called me something besides mister. Seth, maybe. Cohen." He paused and muttered under his breath. "Dad."

"Okay. Seth. Cohen. Seth Cohen from Berkeley." Her eyes brightened, "Sethy."

"Sethy?" He raised an eyebrow, she nodded. "Sethy it is then, I guess."

"Aren't you gonna answer my question?" He stared at her intently, she used her small feet to anchor herself to the ground. "Do you have a best friend?"

"Yeah," he replied. "I have a best friend."

"A girl?" Zooey questioned enthralled.

"Yeah. Well, I have a girl best friend and boy best friend."

"You can't have two best friends! That's just silly."

"Why not?" He questioned.

"You just can't." She waved her pointer finger at him. "You can't have two bests."

He smiled at the little girl. "You know, your mother used to be my best friend."

"Well, you're nice. You're nice and she's nice. You should be friends again." She stood up, back straight, strong and alert. "In fact, I, queen of the swings, demand you to be friends with my mommy again."

"Yes your highness."

* * *

Bitter. Scathing. Their eyes pierced her skin. Their eyes made her slink back in her seat. Their eyes made her want to fly back to Boston. No, the Ukraine. Their eyes made her want to ride unstable trains, to walk on the grounds of Chernobyl. Nuclear radiation had to be better than this. She tapped her toes against the hardwood hoping someone would address her. Hoping someone would call her by her name, not the various nicknames they had developed in the last thirty minutes. They didn't.

She cleared her throat, "You know, I'm sitting right here. Well, of course you know, you've all been glaring at me." She stood up from the couch. "Point is, if you want to talk about this like adults, I'll be outside, but until then, I'd prefer if you just imagined my face."

As she headed towards the door, Taylor yelled after her, "Wait! I'll join you." Summer's heart sank.

She sat on the porch's short brick wall, half prepared to hop over the flower beds below her, half prepared to run for the hills. "You cut your hair," Taylor noted, lingering in the doorway.

"I did." She nodded. "I decided to try out that whole sophisticated adult style, but I don't know, it'll grow back soon enough."

Taylor shook her head. "No. That's not what I meant. It looks nice. Not too long. Not too short." She smiled nervously, "Nice."

"Thanks." Summer replied, playing with her dark stands of hair.

"You left." Taylor said bluntly, taking a seat across from her former friend.

"And you sound like Cohen."

"Yeah well he has spent the past five years obsessing about you." Taylor replied. "Look, I know I'm not Cohen and I know we didn't have some passionate and at times, sickeningly cute relationship. I mean, that would have been really awkward, or really fun, depending on your mindset, but even still, you were my best friend. I know that growing up you had Marissa and parental love, but I didn't have a Marissa. I had mermaid poems, but come to think of it you had those too. My point is, with you I had a real friend and more than that, a real girlfriend and you left. You didn't say goodbye, you didn't write, you just weren't there one day. And no matter how hard he tried my relationship with Seth could never be as strong as it was with you that year."

"I understand." Summer inhaled slightly. She didn't know what to say. She was at a loss for words. Taylor's eyes drooped. A lump lodged itself in Summer's throat. She had come to make amends and she was just going to make things worse. She shook her head, trying to force some profound words, but none came to mind. "I – I missed you too." She finally said. "I missed you a lot."

"Really?" Taylor asked, her eyes lighting up. Summer nodded and before any words could fall from her shimmering lips, Taylor's arms were around her slender body, locking her, trapping her, in a tight hug.

"You're hurting me." Summer said softly, hoping Taylor would release her. Once free she looked her friend in the eye. "I wrote you postcards."

"Postcards?" Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"Postcards." Summer smiled. "From Europe. Every city I visited, every train station, every country, every airport. It became a sort of past time. I'd sit in cafes trying to explain everything, for hours and hours. After Zooey was born and after I was settled in Boston, the tradition continued. Every state we went to, every small town we passed through, I wrote you a postcard." Summer shook her head. "They're nothing special really. Some have a lot of writing, others a line. The point is, I never forgot you. The truth is Taylor, you're my best friend. You've never stopped being my best friend."

Tears welled in Taylor's eyes. A smile spread quickly from ear to ear. This was the moment she had always wanted, the clichéd moment in those teen flicks. The one that could only be shared between two best friends – two girlfriends. "You wrote me postcards?"

Summer nodded.

"Look." Taylor bit her lip. "Anna and I are supposed to have this big lunch together in San Francisco, but I think the restaurant could set a place for one more."

"Anna?" Summer's eyes went wide. "Anna Stern?"

"Yeah. Seth was in Providence. Anna was in Providence. They formed a bond." Taylor ran a hand through her hair. "Look, I'm sure Ryan and Seth can handle a five year old."

"I don't want to impose on them."

"Please!" Taylor scoffed, "It won't be an imposition. They'll both be parents one day – well – I guess Seth already is. Fact is, you'll be teaching them child management. In other words, I'll impose. You won't have to say anything."

"Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys," Summer muttered. "Should be quite the experience."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Yes, it has been forever. No, I don't have any excuses. Hopefully someone out there is still willing to write me a review! Thanks for reading! Again, I do enjoy reviews. The next chapter shouldn't take so long. I had serious writer's block - a lack of inspiration if you will. I think my inspiration is here to stay for now at least, at least I hope. Oh and I'm glad you all liked my crazy Ukraine story - I was really taking a risk there.

* * *


	7. The Quad

_**A Chrismukkah After All These Years**_

**Chapter Seven:**

**The Quad  
**

* * *

Anna Stern's hair hung down to her waist. Blonde and shinning. Summer watched as the sun shone in through the window. She watched each strand light up. She watched her former foe's hair illuminate. She nervously sucked down a glass of water. She could feel her heart-beating heavy in her chest. Anna Stern? Anna Stern with her wit and intelligence. Of course the woman sitting before her had to be Anna Stern. After all, she was unlucky.

"So Taylor, have you talked Shannon lately?" Anna asked, bitterly biting into her salad.

Taylor bit her lip. Summer could cut the tension with a knife. She ran her nails across the table. She was going to ask the question she didn't want to ask. The one she would eventually get the answer to – with or without her consent. "Who's Shannon?"

"Shannon?" Anna smirked.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about her just yet." Taylor interjected, buttering her roll in a panic.

"I don't mind." Summer shrugged humbly. She was lying through her teeth.

"Shannon was the girl Seth started dating after you left." A frog formed in Summer's throat. "Not directly after. A little over a year later, after he transferred to Brown."

Summer looked at her wearily. "Se-Seth went to Brown?"

"Yeah. He double majored: Modern Culture and Media and Comparative Literature." Anna ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass. "They met at a party. She was very pretty, you know? A real charmer. He got drunk. She got drunk. They did something very inappropriate and impulsive behind a tree in the quad at one in the morning and the next thing you know they were inseparably. He practically moved into her dorm room. He spent the summer in Turkey. She spent the summer in Turkey."

Summer raised an eyebrow. "In the quad?"

"In the quad," Anna replied. "Then one day, Seth went on a little trip. He had to go to Seattle. I don't remember why. He was really sick. Shannon told him not to go. I told him not to go, but he didn't listen to either of us. He went to the Pacific Northwest and landed himself in the hospital. He spent two days in the hospital and lying in bed he saw none other than the infamous Dr. Roberts walk past his window every morning. He came back different. Nostalgic. Nostalgic for high school. Nostalgic for you and slowly - not slowly - quickly, their relationship disintegrated."

"I didn't mean to make anyone's relationship disintegrate." Summer said. Her heart sank.

"I know." Anna replied. "But Seth wouldn't have told you that. Seth would have you believe that he hasn't done anything - that he hasn't progressed since you left and he has. He really has. You may not believe me Blanche, but I get your side of the story. I understand fear and making a rash decision that you can't correct, because in your heart you feel that no one could ever forgive you. I don't forgive you. I had to pick up those little pieces of his broken heart. I understand though. Point is, I think you need to see his."

"What does he do?" Summer questioned. "Does he have a job?"

"He wrote a book." Taylor chuckled.

"A book?" Summer smiled. "What's it about?"

"He hasn't let me read it." Taylor replied. Summer turned to Anna.

"Me neither." Anna informed her.

Summer shook her head. This wasn't so bad. "They really had sex in the quad?"

"They did something in the quad." Anna shrugged.

"Can I ask you a question, Summer?" Taylor asked.

She smirked "Depends on the question."

"What was the last relationship you had?"

"Relationship?" Summer furrowed her brow. "Do you mean "relationship" relationship? Or a physical relationship?'

"Won't lie. I'm looking for an answer to the second one, but they're kind of interconnected aren't they?" Taylor laughed.

"For you they are." Anna muttered under her breath.

"I've been on a couple of dates." Summer replied. Taylor looked on eagerly. "But I haven't had sex since Rome."

Anna stared at her blankly. "Since Rome?"

Summer nodded.

"But that was," Taylor began.

"I know when it was."

Anna took a sip from her wine glass. "Shannon just broke up with her boyfriend." The blonde smirked. "He might be your type."

Summer rolled her eyes.

* * *

"Mommy took me to Canada once."

"Really?" Seth questioned, skimming the pages of an obscure novel.

"We went to this mall. It was big. Really big. Huge even. And we bought too much stuff. Way too much stuff!" Zooey drew on a sheet of paper.

"Really?" Seth replied.

Zooey laughed. "You sound like a record."

"A record?"

"Mommy always says I sound like a record when I say things more than once, 'cause they go round and round."

"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to let the academic juices flow. I'm thinking of applying to grad school."

"Grad school?" Zooey questioned.

"It's like Kindergarten, but a lot harder."

"Oh." Zooey said. "Like mommy's school. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know." He said. "Harvard maybe, I'm thinking Harvard."

"I live by Harvard!" Zooey's face lit up.

"I know." Seth told her. "Would that be cool? Would it be cool if I came to live by you?"

"Cool? No." Zooey replied. Seth's face sank. "It'd be awesome! Amazing! Spectacular! I could show you my school and mommy's shop and the place we always get pizza from."

Zooey turned away from her drawing and looked at Seth seriously. "They have the best pizza."

"Do they now?"

"Uh-huh." Zooey replied.

"What are you drawing?" Seth asked, closing his book.

"It's you and Ryan on a rocket ship."

"A rocket ship?"

"Yeah. See you're going to see if Pluto's really a planet."

"How do you know about Pluto?"

"It's mommy's favorite and she always gets made when people call it a 'dwarf whatever.'"

"I do too."

"Sethy?" Zooey questioned.

"Yeah?"

"When Ryan gets up can we go get something to eat."

"I think that's a great idea." Seth nodded. "You know what. Why don't you go wake him up?"

"That'd be mean." Zooey smiled. "Maybe not." Her smile grew wider. "Okay."

* * *

He was playing with his hair. She saw him from the corner of her eye. She watched the mug in his hands caress his lips. This wasn't them. They weren't coffee drinking fiends. They were adolescents dealing with abnormal dilemmas. They were SoCal kids, except they weren't anymore.

She took a seat next to him on the porch. Her elbow nudged him softly and he smiled at her. "You made it through lunch I see."

"I did." Summer nodded.

"Anna didn't tear you to shreds," he noted.

"She didn't."

"You were gone for more then just lunch."

"I was." Summer nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. "Is my daughter still alive?"

Seth scoffed. "Yes Summer, my daughter is still alive." He let a sip of coffee fall down his throat. "I know how to take care of kids."

Summer shook her head. "I never said you didn't."

"She likes me." Seth smiled. "A lot."

"Of course she does. I raised her to like people like you. I raised her to love people like you." She bit her lip. "Actually – I just raised her to love you."

"Thanks. I guess."

"You're welcome." She chuckled. "I guess."

Seth looked down at his hands. "Do you want some coffee or something?" He offered.

"No. I've had too much that devil liquid."

"Well, if you change your mind – " he began.

"Seth," she interrupted. "Can I ask you a question?" He nodded. "Did you really have sex behind a tree in the quad?"

"What?" He laughed. Summer glared at him. "No. That's just some lie my roommate made up. We made out behind the tree, briefly and spent the whole night in my dorm room talking."

"Until you became inseparable. The perfect couple," Summer swallowed the excess liquid in her mouth.

"I wouldn't say that." Seth rolled his eyes. "Fucking Anna."

"You could say that again."

"Look – I met a girl that I liked. We formed a relationship, but it didn't develop over night. If we were inseparable it was only because I was helping her decide what to do her thesis on. She wanted to cross major lines." Seth tapped his foot. "Eventually we became a couple, but Summer?"

"Yeah?" She looked on eagerly.

"That happened gradually."

"And it ended over me?" Summer questioned, before shaking her head. "Not over me. With my help, I mean."

"What has Anna been telling you?" Seth arched his brow. "I came back from Seattle thinking about the past and wondering if we were a good fit, yes."

"But…?"

"I think Anna forgot to mention that Shannon was cheating on me." Summer's eyes went wide. "With a math major."

"Ouch!"

"Tell me about it."

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Don't be." He told her. "I mean, I miss this."

"This?"

"Talking to you. Really talking to you."

"I do too." Summer smiled widely. "Look – I was thinking of taking Zooey to the aquarium tomorrow, how's that sound to you?"

"Lame!" Seth exclaimed.

"Excuse me?"

"You're going into San Francisco and you're not even going to take her to Alcatraz?"

"She's a five-year-old girl. You really think she's going to be impressed by a prison?"

"If you spin it the right way."

"How do you spin a prison the right way?"

"Take her to Alcatraz and you'll see."

"How about this. We'll do both. Prison island in the morning, aquarium in the afternoon." She compromised.

"That sounds fantastic."

"I've got a box for you." Summer told him.

"A box?"

"A box." She nodded. "It's at Luke's. It's got just about anything you could ever want in it. Pictures. Home videos. Commentary. Dates. Numbers. Facts. Figures. Everything. I've spent the past five years recording just about everything for you."

Seth smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"You guess." Summer added, suppressing a nervous laugh.

"No." He replied. "I really mean that."

"You're welcome." She said softly.

Silently, he slid his hand into hers.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

Thank you very much for all the reviews!

Please keep them coming.

Also, they may be holding hands, but please don't think they're back to being the perfect couple - or a couple at all - just yet. After all, she hid an entire human being from him. That takes time.

* * *


	8. Ze Germans

_Chapter Eight: Ze Germans_

* * *

Zooey's bangs swayed when she moved. She looked around the room warily, bright red rain boots squeaking as she walked. Her mother was behind her. She was slower, taking everything in and Seth was right beside her. Every time Zooey turned her head, she noticed that their hands would almost touch.

The metal bars worried her. She inhaled sharply and stopped dead in her tracks. The second Seth caught up with her she grabbed his hand. Zooey stared up into his eyes. He stopped, stood still, and looked down at her. Zooey swallowed hard. "You're not going to lock me in jail are you?"

Seth squinted. "Lock you in jail? Why do you think that?"

"Aquarium. Lame. Prison Island. Great for five year olds." Summer gave Seth a thumbs up. "They really taught you a thing or two at Brown."

"There are cells everywhere and Morrison said that when people get sick of kids they send them away to places where no one can find them." Zooey shook her head. "I don't want to get sent away."

"Honey." Summer bent down to her daughter's level. "How many times do I have to tell you, we don't listen to Morrison?"

Zooey shook her head. "I don't know. You could lock me up and they'd never see me again."

"Don't be silly." Summer played with Zooey's hair. "Mothers who love their daughters don't give them away. Especially not to places where they'll never see them again."

"Okay." Zooey sighed, "But you could have Sethy do your bidding."

"Do my bidding?" Summer shook her head. "Who teaches you these phrases? Do I have to

take your comic books away?"

"No. No." Zooey shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Zooey?" Seth addressed her.

"Yes, Sethy." She said inquisitively, tightly squeezing his hand.

"This place is defunct." Zooey looked at him confused. Summer smiled. "I mean they don't use it anymore. It's just for looking at. It's historic."

"Okay." Zooey shrugged.

Summer patted Seth's back. "Good choice," she told him softly.

They walked some more. "Zooey." Seth said.

"Yes." She sighed, her hand wrapped around an iron bar.

"They used to keep the really bad people here."

This caught Zooey's attention. "Really bad?"

"Like Super Villains."

"Super Villains?" Zooey questioned, excitement in her eyes.

"The Lex Luthors of criminals." Seth told her. "Why do you think it's an island?"

She thought it over for a minute. "So they couldn't get away?"

"So they couldn't get away." Seth nodded.

"What about their powers?"

"Yeah Seth," Summer teased. "What about their powers?"

"The Germans gave Alcatraz this big machine." Seth began, "And the machine was like kryptonite. It stripped their powers away."

"Really?" Zooey asked her mother.

Seth looked on desperately. Summer smiled. "Seth knows more about it than me, you should listen to him."

"Want to see if we can find it?"

"Uh-huh." Zooey said, excitement booming in her voice. She skipped ahead. "Hurry up," she demanded.

"Ze Germans, eh?" Summer laughed.

"Who else?" Seth asked. "The Ukrainians?"

* * *

Taylor Townsend stared at her. She watched the way her hair blew in the wind. The way she looked at things. She noted how happy she was. The way she ran aimlessly. "I want one." She whined.

"Want one what?" Summer responded confused.

"A five-year-old." She sighed.

"They have to grow into five year olds."

"You know what I mean." Taylor smiled. "A baby. I think I want a baby."

"Have you talked to Ryan about this?"

"No." Taylor shook her head. "But I don't mean now. I mean in a couple of years maybe. Definitely not now, things are way too crazy right now."

"Crazy?" Summer raised an eyebrow. "I thought everything was perfect."

"No. No." Taylor said quickly. "Everything is perfect. I mean for the most part. Is anything ever really perfect? It's just I have some things to think about."

"Pre-wedding jitters?"

"No."

"Then what?" Summer said after a minute of thinking.

"It's just," she sighed. "Can you keep a secret?"

Summer laughed, pointing to her daughter playing by the flowers. "Right." Taylor nodded. "It's just Ryan's in grad-school."

"Yeah."

"Here."

"Yeah."

"In Berkley."

"Yes."

"And we've lived here for a long time."

Summer nodded.

"Here in Berkley."

"And?" Summer questioned.

"And I got offered this amazing job from Amnesty International in New York." Taylor finally blurt out.

"So you got offered an amazing job?" Summer asked.

"Yeah."

"And it's really amazing? Fantastic?"

"You have no idea."

Summer looked at her friend seriously. "Then what's the problem?"

"It's just we've lived here for so long."

"And before you lived here you spent nineteen years living in Newport Beach."

"Yeah, but that's still California."

Summer looked around. "Really not the same as Newport."

"And Ryan's still got a year of school left."

"Last I checked they had colleges in New York."

"And then he'd have to find a job."

"Buildings too."

"We already have connections here."

"Your connections have connections. Six degrees of separation and all that and New York has a lot of people. I'm sure your people know people in New York." Summer chuckled, "Believe me, this is coming from a person who had to talk to a lot of people to get her business together."

"What exactly do you do?"

"I have a store. We sell green products. Mostly clothing, but some other stuff. You know vegan clothes and shoes, organic clothes and jeans. Sustainable clothing. Stylish, sustainable clothing. Some of it we design and manufacture, other stuff we don't." Summer paused. "We also hold community classes. Do it yourself and whatnot." She bopped her head around a little. "That's about it."

"That's great." Taylor smiled. "Summer Roberts out to save the world."

"Taylor Townsend about to take an amazing job in New York because she knows if she doesn't she'll regret for the rest of her life." She stressed the word amazing.

"What about Ryan?"

"You'll figure it out."

They sat quietly for a moment. "When did you stop being a vegetarian?"

"When radishes, mushrooms, and tofu stopped cutting it." Summer thought it over for a minute. "If I lived in India I'd be a vegetarian. Don't get me wrong we still do the veggie thing a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot of Zooey's friends think I'm weird, like Denise Huxtable but a better cook with a better head on her shoulders, but as long as my chickens aren't tortured I'm fine."

Zooey came over from across the yard. "We buy organic." She added, hearing the end of her mother's talk.

"That we do."

"And we support local farmers." Zooey smiled.

"Uh-huh." Summer nodded, her daughter taking a seat on her lap.

Taylor smiled. "Can you teach my kid to talk like that?"

Summer kissed the top of Zooey's head. "I can try."

* * *

She was an expert at body language. Maybe expert wasn't the word, but she was from Newport and it was there that she had learned the science of it all. It was there that she learned that what people say and what they mean are two very different things. It was there that she learned that you had to read between the lines, that sometimes you had to dig a ditch before you could find the whole truth.

She watched them. She listened to their words. Their nervous voices. Their hostile voices. She watched the way each would lean toward the other at any given moment and she knew. She knew what they really wanted to do was go upstairs and rip each other's clothes off. It sounded crass, like some cheap romance novel you hid behind your pillow, but something about them made it romantic.

"So Summer, when was the last time you had fun?" She asked.

Summer smirked. "What exactly is your definition of fun Kaitlin?"

"You know, have a few drinks. Let your hair back." Kaitlin had this was of making everything seem simple. "Have fun."

Summer thought it over. "It's been a while."

"Yeah?" Kaitlin inhaled sharply. "Well, Seth knows how to have a good time. Don't you Seth?"

"You do?" Summer asked, surprised to hear those words come out of her mouth.

"Well he certainly knows how to spike the eggnog."

"You do?" Summer eyed him warily.

"I've had my moments."

"How about we go out? Show you how to really have a good time." Kaitlin suggested.

"We?" Seth questioned.

"Yes, we."

"How old are you?" Summer asked.

"Old enough."

"What do you suggest I do with my daughter?" Summer questioned.

"Yeah. What do you suggest we do with our daughter?" Seth corrected, at which Summer rolled her eyes.

"Look at her with Taylor. She is so Taylor's Barbie doll. Give her a hair brush and everything will be fine." Kaitlin replied.

"I don't know."

"Come on!" Kaitlin looked at her seriously. "Did no one teach you to capitalize on free babysitting?"

She could tell from the look in Summer's eye that she was going to cave and she was glad. Drinking had a way of making things come out easier, of making feelings flow like blood from a open wound. A way of giving complicated things the deceptive air of ease and when complicated things seemed easy, they were easy, for a while. And she was pretty sure a while was all Seth and Summer needed to say the one thing they needed to say, at least. To admit, the one feeling they could both agree on.

She just hoped they'd remember everything in the morning.


	9. Like Jasmine at Midnight

* * *

**_A Chrismukkah After All These Years_**

**Chapter Nine:**

**Like Jasmine at Midnight**

* * *

Her dress was short. Not Lindsey Lohan or Paris Hilton short, but it showed off her thighs, it hugged her body. He stared at her, watched the way she moved. He guessed mothers knew how to have a good time too. She noticed him staring. He quickly turned his head. She smiled.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She asked him.

"No."

"I thought we were supposed to be having a good time. You're good at that." She paused. "Remember?"

"My mom always taught me to buy drinks for girls, not have them buy drinks for me."

"This isn't a date." She reminded him.

"I know." His voice seemed to amplify this knowledge.

"This isn't a date." She repeated. "And you're not trying to get into my pants, are you?" She laughed.

"No Summer. I'm trying to get under your dress."

"Then I don't think your mother's lesson applies." She grabbed his hand. Her hand was soft, smooth. It felt like it used to. He was sure that if it was near his face he could smell the slight scent of her body lotion, like jasmine at midnight.

"What do you want?" She asked when they made it to the bar.

"Scotch and Soda."

"That was very quick. Very decisive. Are you feeling okay?" She asked, extending a hand towards his head. The tinge of jasmine tickled his nose; he stopped her hand from coming any closer. She rolled her eyes and turned to the bartender. "Can I have a Scotch and Soda and a Rum and Coke please?"

She opened her wallet and paid the man. Seth watched her. She was a good tipper. "Rum and Coke?" He questioned raising an eyebrow.

"Rum and Coke." She repeated. They walked away from the bar, drinks in tow.

"When did you started drinking Rum and Cokes?"

She shrugged. "I tended bar. I tried new things." She paused. "Marissa liked Rum and Cokes."

"Marissa liked anything with alcohol. She liked getting drunk and making a fool of herself and her family." Seth added in a mutter. He was pushing it with his mutter's length and he knew it.

Summer hit his arm. It smarted. "Well – if old Julie Cooper was my mother, I'd want to make my family look foolish too."

"If old Julie Cooper was your mother, you wouldn't have to make your family look foolish."

Summer smiled. "Touché."

"Where's Kaitlin?"

"With that frat boy over there." She pointed.

"Ah." Seth inhaled sharply.

"I haven't been clubbing in a long time." She took a sip of her drink.

"No?" He questioned.

"No." Summer sighed. "Lucy made me go once. A couple years ago. Said I needed to have 'a night I'd never forget.' Better yet she said, 'a night I was sure to forget.'"

"Who's Lucy?"

"A friend. My business partner." Summer smiled. "The reason I'm not running around like a chicken with my head cut off."

"I'm glad."

"That I have a friend?" Summer asked, the confusion showing on her face.

"That you're not running around like a chicken with your head cut off."

"Oh." Summer nodded. "Me too."

They stared at the dance floor in silence. "Did they teach you how to dance at Brown by any chance?"

"Pardon?" He questioned.

"At Brown, did they teach you how to dance? I mean – " she wrinkled her nose. He wouldn't admit it now, but he loved it when she wrinkled her nose. "I don't mean did you take a dance class, I just mean through interaction, did you, Seth Cohen learn how to dance? Like a normal person that is."

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Do you, Summer Roberts, even remember how to dance?"

"I don't know." She shrugged back. "I guess we'll have to just try it and see."

"After you." He ushered, chugging the rest of his drink. Summer followed suit.

* * *

"I – um, I – um." She laughed. "Lost my train of thought."

"Did you now?" He chuckled.

"I did." Summer bit her lip and took a sip of her drink. "I can't remember the last I did this, high school maybe."

"The last time you did what?"

"Drank." She shook her head slightly. "Like really drank."

They looked at each other, stared deep into one another's eyes. Searching from some memory they had displaced over the years. "Prom!" They both shouted in unison.

"Prom." Summer nodded. "Kaitlin's our designated driver, right?"

"I don't know. We probably should have asked her."

"Where is she?" They examined the room, but could not place her amongst the gyrating bodies.

"We can take a cab or a bus or something."

"An adventure." Summer grabbed one of the shot glasses on the table in front of her. "To an adventure. To our adventure."

Seth wasn't sure he would ever hear Summer say the word our, in reference to them ever again. Hell, until recently he didn't think he'd be seeing her again, but there she was, in the flesh. Skin still as soft as ever. Hair still as dark as ever. Build still as small as ever. A curl fell over her eye. She pushed it back softly, gracefully. She blushed, that slight tinge of insecurity apparent to him and him alone. He wasn't sure if he could forgive her, but there was no doubt in Seth's mind that he didn't want her to go, didn't want her to leave. Not again. He picked up a shot. "To our adventure." Their glasses clinked.

* * *

"You can't will someone to look a certain way." Summer said matter-of-factly. "I mean you can try. You can use all the power in your brain – all your, um, power – brain power, but it doesn't work."

"No. It doesn't."

"It should though right? I mean, that could be a good thing. Or a bad thing, but kind of a good thing." Summer thought it over for a minute. Her words were about to slur. "Zooey started to look like you when she was a baby. A teeny-tiny baby. So small and I didn't want her to look like you, cause I didn't want to think about you, but she does. She really does. You cursed me. You cursed her with the Cohen genes."

"I did." He nodded.

"You and your demon sperm."

"They don't like to be called that."

"Oh." Summer leaned back into her chair. "Well." She said and as if changing her mind, got up and plopped down next to Seth. "Cohen. Can I ask you a question? I need to ask you a question."

"Anything," he nodded.

"What do you do? Do you doodle?" Summer sank into the couch a little. "Anna told me you wrote a book. I think it was Anna. Someone told me. Did you really write a book? What's it about?"

"There's this guy in his twenties and his girlfriend leaves him. She doesn't leave. She disappears, into thin air, like a ghost and he tries to put his life back together." He paused. "But he can't where he lives so he takes a road trip cross country and along the way he figures out the right direction for his own life."

"I'd read that." Summer said.

"You should."

"I'm not a ghost though Cohen."

"Could have fooled me."

She put a hand on his chest. "I'm not a ghost anymore."

"You broke my heart." He said simply.

"I broke mine too." Summer shook her head. "Sometimes we don't think. I mean we just don't think." She paused. "Or maybe we do. Maybe we just think too much."

Seth nodded. "I think that's our problem."

"Why we're the Seth and Summer soap opera." She mulled it over. "But I guess we're not even that anymore."

"No we're not." The change in Summer's expression was apparent. "We're the Seth and Summer primetime soap now. We're _The Valley_."

"We're sad."

"Yup." Seth sank a little further back into the couch.

Silence overtook them. They did not look at each other. The gap between them had grown larger. Summer put a hand on her knee and looked straight ahead, her head bopped around a little. She was thinking. "Seth." She finally said, scooting slightly closer to him.

"Yeah?"

"I have to say this. I just – I just have to say this. I think I've drank enough to say this." She nodded. "Yeah. I've definitely drunk enough to say this." She paused. "It's you. It's you. It's you."

"What?"

"You know how I lost myself?" She laughed at the slight absurdity of the sentence. "Well – I finally found myself, but I lost something important to me."

"What's that?" He questioned oblivious.

"You. The missing piece, it's you." She put a hand to her face and nervously twisted it around. "What I'm trying to say." She sighed.

"I – just." She paused for a moment. "I love you."

Seth turned towards her, stared at her, but said nothing. "You know that. Of course you know that." She slapped a hand to her head in a way that said 'Summer, you idiot.' "I just had to say that. It's you." She smirked. "I tried to make it someone else, but it never worked."

"I don't know what to say." He said after a long pause.

"No." She shook her head. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I didn't expect you to." Her heart sank.

"I'm sorry." She heard him genuinely mutter as he picked up his glass of beer.

"It's okay." She whispered back, before raising her voice loud enough for him to hear, but no else. "Just so you know. I haven't had sex in five years."

Seth spit out his drink.

* * *

They took the bus home. Scratch that, they took buses home; there had been more than one. What had happened to Kaitlin, they weren't really sure. They entered the house trying their best to keep quiet. "Shh." Summer said, suppressing a laugh. She felt like a teenager again, the way she had felt the summer before Ryan Atwood came to town, except better, like less of a bitch.

"I get knocked down." Seth began singing, louder than he should have. This is the way they had sounded the whole ride home, like two babbling idiots discussing horribly cheesy nineties songs.

"Shh." Summer repeated laughing. "Shh." She put a finger to Seth's lips and removed it only when all sound had stopped coming from his mouth. She walked towards her bedroom. She opened the door and promptly shut it. "I found Kaitlin." She said with a sigh, walking downstairs to Seth. "She stole my bed."

"It's okay." He said. "You can share my room."

"Yeah?" She said enthusiastically.

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Okay." She paused. "Oh! What about that Meredith Brooks song?"

"I hate the world today." Seth began.

"You're so good to me. I know, but I can't change."

"Da da da da da." Seth continued, to the tune of the song.

"I'm a bitch. I'm a lover. I'm a child. I'm a mother. I'm a sinner. I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed. I'm your hell. I'm your dream. I'm nothing in between. You know you wouldn't want it any other way." They sang in unison. Seth used his hand as a microphone.

"I loved that song."

"I know."

"Of course you do." She said before accusing him, "Stalker."

"Was not."

"You took my mermaid poem from the trash can."

"That wasn't yours." He retorted.

"You didn't know that."

He shrugged defeated. It was true. At the time he hadn't known that.

* * *

Summer hadn't changed. He offered her a shirt, but she declined. The dress still clung to her thighs. He stared at her. He wanted to touch her. She was so close, but at the same time distant. Who was she? He didn't know anymore. How had she changed? He noted some differences, but mostly she was the same. The same petite Summer. The same woman he had wanted to make his wife. She even used the same lotion, but he knew deep down that somehow she was different, noticeably different. Somehow she wasn't the same Summer Roberts any more.

She hadn't climbed under the covers. She laid on top of them. Moving groggily, trying to find the best position. Maybe she didn't want to accidentally touch. Maybe she didn't want to accidentally rub against him in her sleep. Maybe she didn't think he wanted her too. He wouldn't admit it, but deep down he knew he wanted her to.

He could smell her better now and her scent reminded him how soft her body was, how warm, how inviting. It reminded him how he used to want to hold her in his arms all day. _Damn Summer Roberts_, he cursed silently. She hadn't even been there a week. She'd only been there four days. How could four days bring all those feelings back so fast? How could the slate have already wiped itself clean?

He watched her. When he thought she was asleep he whispered, "I love you too."

She pretended not to hear him.

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**Author's Note: **

There you have it. A little longer, a lot quicker.

I'm glad I still have readers left! Quite glad indeed. However, I noticed my email received a lot more non-review alerts then review alerts. So, not to sound naggy, but if you added me to your story alert or whatnot and are still reading this, would you mind reviewing? It'd be nice. Thoughts, comments, suggestions - you name, I'll read it.

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